Moments
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Andromeda counts her life by moments.


Andromeda counts her life by moments. Not the _ordinary_ ones, of course, but the special ones. The ones that have changed (_warped_, her mother would say) her forever.

_one_

It's a bright sunny day and Andromeda is with all her family.

"Regulus!" Bella calls as soon as they are within earshot of their cousins.

Regulus comes over and gives her a tentative smile. "Cousin Bellatrix," he says, sounding overly formal.

Andromeda feels invisible as she stands there while Regulus and Bella talk excitedly. There's a five year age gap between the two yet they seem closer than her and Bella. She thinks that maybe this feeling of not belonging comes from the fact she will be going to Hogwarts this autumn. The first out of them all.

They are all called over for a family photo and Andromeda finds herself on the edge of the shot, almost not part of the family, perhaps a stranger who wandered in by mistake. That could have almost been true except it was a Black Family Photo and no stranger would have ever been allowed in.

"Dromy's on the outside again," Narcissa says with a small giggle as their mother gives her a disapproving look.

"Don't giggle, Narcissa," she reprimands.

Andromeda tries to ignore what her sister said but knows it's true.

_two_

Andromeda knows friends are important. And as she listens to her mother's words, she realises she's made the wrong ones.

"But they're pureblooded," she tries to explain but her mother lifts up a hand.

"My dear Andromeda," her mother says, with one lifted eyebrow, "you are already fifteen. Surely you know now that some purebloods are better than others? Making friends with _Weasleys_... well that is unacceptable." She sighs. "I suppose I should be grateful that you are not making friends with," her lip curls, "Mudbloods."

Andromeda doesn't know what to say. Her very first real friends and her mother hates them. She knows that she should please her parents but she doesn't want to lose her friends. _Her_ friends. For once, somebody who wants to talk to her, to be with her, and who doesn't just see her as an older sister, an older cousin.

"Yes mother," she says sullenly.

_three_

Andromeda gives a tight little smile as she sits at the dinner table. She takes up her knife and fork, refusing to look up and be caught in the silent glare of her mother's. She's almost sure that Bella's smirking from across the table and that Narcissa's got the same impassive face as always. It was always strange to her that the youngest of the three sisters was best able to maintain the impassive face that was of such import to their parents.

"So, Andromeda," comes the icy words from down the end of the table, "what have you to say for yourself?"

Andromeda looks up but before she can answer for herself, Bella jumps in. "Yes, dear sister," she says, with that particular mocking twist to her lips, "do tell us why you deigned to associate with a Mudblood?"

Closing her eyes briefly, when Andromeda opens them again, she can't help but notice Narcissa's pursed lips and the faint look of disapproval on the eleven-year-old's face. "I have nothing to say," she says quietly.

"You have _nothing_ to say?" Her mother's voice has grown dangerously quiet. "I suggest, child, that you find something to say, something to explain your behaviour at Hogwarts in the past few months."

Lifting her chin, Andromeda turns her head and stares her mother in the eyes. "As I said," she repeats, "I have nothing to say."

"You may be a Black and a child of mine, but I will not tolerate this in my house. You will answer your mother immediately." Her father, a usually taciturn man sounds furious.

Andromeda feels something _snap_ inside her. She slams her napkin down on the table causing the silverware to rattle ominously. "I'm leaving," she snaps. "Damn you all. I'm leaving. I've graduated and Ted and I are getting married and I'm _leaving_." She stands up, not caring about the scrape her chair makes on the ground. Her mother always taught her never to make a sound as you leave the table, but she doesn't care much for what her _mother_ says nowadays.

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother says coldly. "You cannot leave. Where would you go?"

"Anywhere." A part of Andromeda realises how childish she's being but can't seem to stop.

"If you do this, you are no longer part of our family," her father says, a dark note of warning in his tone.

"Good."

As Andromeda walks off, without a backwards glance, she can already feel the burning scorch of her name being erased from the Black family history.

_four_

The years seem to swim before Andromeda's eyes as she hears the news.

_You-Know-Who Defeated by Harry Potter! _

_James and Lily, Dead, Their Son a Hero!_

It seems only yesterday that Narcissa graduated. She remembers going to the graduation, seeing her parents turn their faces away from her. She remembers James Potter as a messy-haired boy. His wife, she has no recollection of. Could they really be dead?

Ted comes up behind her and tries to give her a hug. She shakes him off. "Stop it," she says irritably.

"It's a time for celebration," he says, sounding perplexed.

She gives a curt nod. "Yes," she agrees.

Celebration, indeed. Regulus was only killed last year. She remembers the notice in the Daily Prophet clearly. In her mind, he's still the smiling five-year-old at the family gathering so long ago.

"Mummy?"

Andromeda looks down and sees small Nymphadora tugging at her robes. "Mummy, what's happening?"

She scoops her daughter up. "We've won, my darling," she murmurs. "We've won."

Andromeda wonders if she says it enough times whether she'll actually believe it. Too many of her family have died (or gone to Azkaban, her mind says harshly). Too many. It doesn't feel like a victory.

_five_

Andromeda sees her daughter twice a year and is surprised at the lines etching the side of Nymphadora's face. "How is everything," she says helplessly.

"The war, mother," Nymphadora says curtly. "We're losing." Her hands shake and for a second, Andromeda sees a flicker of red hair, then blonde hair before it settles back to the black hair she has been using for the past two years.

"I'm sorry," Andromeda says.

Nymphadora stares at her and Andromeda get the distinct impression her daughter doesn't know her. "Help us, mother," she pleads. "Why are you just sitting here?"

"There is nothing I could do," Andromeda says softly.

"If that is how you want it... " Nymphadora says and then trails off. She spins on her heel. "Goodbye mother," she says as she leaves.

It seems all so normal that Andromeda almost doesn't realise it for what it truly is. Compared to her own goodbye, it's ridiculously understated. "Goodbye," she echoes as she watches her daughter depart.

There really is nothing she can do. Andromeda tries to convince herself. Nothing. She cannot live with watching her old friends, her _family_ die any longer.

She cannot join this war.

She _will not_ join this war.


End file.
